'it is not your fault
at all. It is the doing of another lady, an old enemy of mine. The other
lady has been trying to spite me, mademoiselle, for several years. She
is powerful; she has hosts of servants. She plunges me into all manner
of terrible scrapes, and for all this I laugh at her and snap my
fingers--So.'

By the time I had said 'So' and snapped my fingers she had done crying,
and being very intelligent she understood my parable, and when I laughed
she smiled. I will tell you exactly what her smile was like. I was
painting: in the Welsh hills three years ago, with plenty of money in
my pocket, and a very great enthusiasm for art in my soul. I strayed
out from the hotel I was staying in one beautiful moonlight night. I had
rambled far, when it began to rain and grew very dark with clouds. I sat
under a rock upon a big stone by the side of a little lake, and lit my
pipe and waited for the rain to cease. And while it was still raining a
little, the clouds divided for one second, and the moonlight swam down
the lake from one end to the other. That was her smile; and when I
saw it I seemed to see the lake again, and to hear the rain and the
rustling of the trees, and smell the scent of the dead leaves. The
moonlight stayed on her face only a second. She grew grave and sad
again, and came timidly to me where I was at work. 'Will it be much
trouble to you to mend it?' she asked. 'Will it take long?'

'Not long, mademoiselle,' I answered; 'I shall finish it to-day.'

I am gifted by nature with a delicate organisation. It is not possible
for a man to be a gentleman without something of the quality I desire
to indicate. I observe intuitively. I saw that my distressed companion
desired to say something, and I saw also that what she desired to say
would be embarrassing to me. It was also plain to my refined observation
that she would be happier if she could only go gracefully. I relieved
her of this trouble--

'We will challenge Madame Fortune again in the morning, mademoiselle.
You and I will beat her this time. We will co-operate again.'

'Oh yes,' she said, 'do let me take it in the morning. I _will_ be
careful.'

'And now,' I said, 'you will think me an ogre, and will fancy that I am
going to imprison you unless I let you go.'

I opened the door, but she lingered, struggling with that embarrassment
which feared to embarrass me. For she is a lady just as certainly as I
am a gentleman, and fine natures understand